


Rose Gold

by Lilly_White



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Midgar, Sex Work, aeris the sex worker, street work, tseng the Model Client
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_White/pseuds/Lilly_White
Summary: AU where Aeris hasn't been formally "checked on" by the Turks since she was ten, so Tseng and her don't know each other.Then one day Tseng buys a flower from a pretty flowergirl, only to find out that flowers aren't the only thing she's selling. And things get interesting.





	Rose Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silkoversteel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkoversteel/gifts).



> I was feverish whilst writing like 60% of this, and still a little groggy for the editing process, so please forgive me if I missed any grammatical/semantic weirdness. Thanks for reading! Drop me a line if you enjoyed it!

° ° °

There was a code. When the flowergirl’s basket had pink flowers in them, one could ask favours of her that nothing to do with horticulture. One simply had to ask to purchase a pink flower, and she would say, _those are a little more expensive._ The uninformed would ask _how much?_ whilst the correct answer was, _all good things cost extra._ If the correct answer was given, she would smile, pluck out a flower and hand it to her new patron. He or she would then give the flowergirl a certain amount of money, and according to the amount, she would lead them away to wherever it was that she took her benefactors, and do whatever secret business she did with them privately.

Tseng had other things to do. Far better things to do, in fact, than stalk some random slummer who happened to have a pretty face and suspicious behaviour. But professional habit was hard to shake, so once Tseng had noticed  that she spent exactly an hour off the streets every time she sold a pink flower, he’d pegged her for some kind of criminal. Perhaps some headhunter or coordinator for Avalanche meetings. More realistically, a simple drug dealer. Either way, he told himself it was worth a look.

He hadn’t started following her straight away – he’d just come across her from time to time between assignments. It was difficult to miss a girl who was always done up in the cleanest frock in the entire sector. Her threads practically shone in the middle of the usual greys and blacks. The first time he decided to tail her properly, he’d waited till her usual routine intersected his, and then he'd followed suite.  

She’d been accompanied by a burly guy with tattoos crawling up his arms and a shaved skull. Tseng had gauged the distance between his gun and his right hand all throughout the little walk they’d taken. She’d led him into the junk maze, right up a path of broken roofs and upturned cars and dry rubble. Tseng had followed, only to land in one of the many hidden container-villages that existed in the sectors, deep in unsanitary scrapheaps where ShinRa peacekeepers usually went for drug busts. Most of them turned up groups of people who’d chased an ersatz of freedom all the way to death.

He was confident now in his theory of her drug dealing. While he waited the usual amount of time for the deal to be struck in her curtained-off container, he wandered, just to cool off the unprofessional glee he was feeling at the prospect of finally having a moment alone with the flowergirl. Even if it was just to wrangle her for the drugs. He ducked his head into several of the other containers that showed signs of living. As usual, he found junkies and the occasional child wandering and playing whilst their mother shot up on something recreational that would probably kill an Upworlder. He let them be for the time being. They’d probably still be there for the next… oh, twenty four, forty-eight hours. He could pluck them out of there whenever he liked.

Five minutes passed by. Ten. Then fifteen had gone by without anyone surfacing from that container, and he began hearing something. Something that didn't sound quite like a simple drug exchange should sound.

Tseng went back to the row of containers where the flowergirl had taken her burly patron. He skirted around the back so he wouldn’t be walking straight across wide-open entrances, his waxed pumps treading across the usual filth of empty beer cans and discarded needle packs and general waste that the directionless youth left behind them. He was silent as a ghost, courtesy of experience.

There were two young boys fighting quietly ahead. They seemed to be taking turns peeking through a hole in one of the containers. One look at Tseng and they scattered like stray cats. There was always something a little degrading about taking the place of fourteen-year-old peeping toms, but spying on other people’s intimacy was far too integral to Tseng’s day-to-day life for him to think twice. Kicking a few scrunched-up tissues aside with a scowl, he crouched and aligned his eye with the hole.

 The interior of the container was illuminated by faerie lights that practically covered the ceiling and walls, emitting a dim pink light. On the floor were pale cushions and a furry throw rug. Tseng was a little distracted from making the rest of the inventory, because the flowergirl was… well. She was in a certain state of undress. In fact she was naked and arched across the rug, sweat glistening along the length of her body as she let the burly man pin her down. He was poised over her, his hips like pistons, driving between her thighs with skin slapping skin and drawing high-pitched mewls from her.

Tseng couldn’t tell if the sounds were pleasure or pain. He decided that seeing the face she was making, it was probably the former. It… simultaneously relieved him and yet irritated him to make that deduction. He turned away from the hole, deciding that he’d wait until they were finished since they were making their progress known to everyone within ten metres of the container.

 He didn’t wait until they were finished to check again. He waited about ten seconds. And they were far from finished.

He decided not to meet her after the burly man had gone. First, because he didn’t quite trust himself to be able to speak to her beyond some monosyllabic grunt, after what he’d just seen her do. Second, because… well, technically, he had no reason to. Sex work was legal in Midgar. He could’ve intercepted her just to remind her that working at a brothel would probably be safer for her, but he knew women like her had plenty of reasons to work on their own terms, chief of which was the lack of overseers who’d ask for a cut of their cash. He just wondered what she did about protection. From his standpoint she had literally chosen the worst possible spot, surrounded by drunkards and junkies without a single honest soul in sight or within screaming distance. Not to mention, that man could’ve behaved in a far less… gentlemanly manner with her.

Sometime between the train journey, the ice cold shower and the moment before bed where he meticulously folded his things right down to his sock-suspenders,  Tseng decided that the flowergirl would not go unprotected any longer. As long as he had the time, anyway.

°

Leading the department gave him the freedom to choose and modify his own timetable at his leisure. But he was nothing if not a model Turk, this far down the line. So for the time being, he decided he’d offer protection to the flowergirl as long as his assignments in the slums coincided with her pink flower days.

The first time he spoke to her, he’d just finished a particularly rough chase-and-capture. He was sweaty, his face and stomach sore from getting punched though he’d Cured away any signs of it, his ears lined with blood from where he’d tucked his hair out of his face with his bloody hands. He washed those with one of the slum’s trademark rusty taps that stood in the middle of each block as rallying points. It wouldn’t do to meet the flowergirl with dirty hands.

He went to one of her usual spots, found her crouching by the pipelines digging out what looked like a weed.

He stepped up to her cautiously. Straightened his lapels without thinking. He felt almost _nervous_ by how close he was getting to her. He looked at her, crouching there in her pink dress with her messy braid falling straight down her back, not even keeping an eye on her surroundings. Almost within hand’s reach.  For a slumgirl her hair looked unbelievably soft. Then he realised she was digging with her bare hands – he watched as she cradled the weed in its lump of earth in one hand and with the other, took an open jam jar which was already filled with loamy soil. She tenderly deposited the weed within it, screwed it shut again, slotted it into her basket between her flowers. For a moment he found it inexplicably endearing that the only ‘dirt’ he'd ever seen on her was fresh earth.

When she looked up at him, his professional poker face had made way for a rather fascinated frown. He checked himself in about a second – very poor time for a would-be model Turk.

‘Oh!’ She seemed to come to herself, straightening up and brushing her hands together. She only came to chest-height for him, so she had to keep her head tilted back to look at him. And she apparently got lost staring at him, wearing an all-too flattering smile and completely forgetting that her flower basket was still at her feet. Tseng reached down to pick it up for her, and she took it with an apologetic laugh.

‘I’m sorry, my head was in the clouds,’ she said. (Unusual expression for a slummer, Tseng noted.) She propped the flower basket against her slender hip, adopting her usual pose. ‘Would you like a flower, sir?’

‘Yes, I would,’ he said. ‘A pink one, please.’

He saw her eyes travel down to his mouth, his jaw, his neck and collar and lapels, as though appreciating how clean-cut he was. Seeing her last clients, he could understand her appreciation of ironed clothes and a close, neat shave. He didn’t take it as a flattery for himself that she'd look forward to him offering himself as a client. Of course not.

‘Those are a little more expensive,’ she said.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Tseng, consciously breaking the code. He could’ve sworn he saw her shoulders droop a little as she reached for a flower.

‘That’ll be ten gil, then,’ she said.

He took it from her, gave her a crisp hundred-gil note. She took it, gave him that apologetic look again.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t really have enough change to - ’

‘Keep it,’ he told her. She smiled even brighter, and Tseng would never admit how warm it made his chest feel to see her smile like that. Flower in hand, he said, ‘These flowers… they’re quite delicate.’

‘They’re grown in slum soil,’ she said. ‘At this rate they’re probably the sturdiest plants on this continent. Don’t be fooled by how fine the petals look.’

Tseng carefully tucked the flower in his buttonhole. ‘Still. I think even the strongest can benefit from an extra layer of protection.’

She cocked her head at him, those mossy green eyes searching his face. Just by the way she looked at him, he could tell that she hadn’t missed a beat of his double-meanings.

‘Nobody does anything for free down here,’ she said.

‘Some do,’ Tseng said, looking her dead in the eye, hoping his intention was clear.

Aeris smiled again. ‘No offence, but I don’t trust good Samaritans. And especially not when they’re wearing freshly pressed Armani.’ Before he could even reply, she had collected herself and started walking past him. ‘Have a good day.’

‘Wait – ’

Skin, smooth and slightly cold against his hand. They both looked down to see that he’d grabbed hold of her elbow as she walked past. She raised her eyes to his face and he immediately let go of her.

‘I’m not looking for any unprofessional arrangement,’ Tseng intimated, and then decided to flash her his Turk badge so she’d take him seriously. Her eyes widened at the slick silver insignia. ‘I mean what I say. The junkyards aren’t safe for anyone. I am already down here a lot on assignment, so in my free time I would like to…’ He thought for a moment, mortified at how personal he was allowing himself to get in front of this complete stranger. ‘I would like to choose who I can assist.’

The flowergirl considered him for a moment. Then she reached into her jacket pocket, took out a pen and a green pad of post-it notes. She started writing a number, and Tseng settled into the usual feeling of smug satisfaction after a successful mission. Then she wrote a name – _Magda._ Skipped a line, started writing another mobile number. Wrote another name – _Lucy._

‘These are some girls I know who don’t have the same skillsets as I do when it comes to protection,’ she said as she wrote a third number under Tseng’s exasperated gaze. ‘Lucy in particular would need a bodyguard. She’s basically just skin and bones. Sometimes even I've stuck around to protect her.’

She plucked the post-it off its pad, folded the sticky strip over itself and handed it to Tseng with that brilliant – and now completely irritating – smile of hers.

‘Here you go,’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘If it’s sex workers you want to help, now you can choose. See you around!’

‘Wait!’ Tseng spun around, post-it note in hand, realizing he hadn’t even asked her her name as he watched her leave. Straight-backed and braid swinging, she kept walking and was soon lost in the neon-bathed crowds.

 

 ° ° °

He kept an eye on her for the next few weeks, just in passing, not wanting to stalk a civilian who clearly didn’t want company. Curiously, she never failed to nod and smile at him when she crossed him in the street. When he stopped near her to reiterate his offer once, she asked if he wanted a flower again, using the exact same line as last time. He wondered if she’d make her coded offer if he chose the pink ones. He declined instead, and she gazed at him knowingly before nodding at him in farewell, as though she knew something he didn’t. He quickly learned that that’s mostly how she would look at him – from some kind of mental high ground, like she was waiting for him to figure something out that she could see from a mile away. He’d seen junkies look at him like that, thieves and kids who were proud of how successfully they could hide their crime.

He wondered if it was drugs. If she was shaking him off because she had something to hide. If anything she was certainly acting a little suspiciously. It incensed him too much for him to keep his distances.

He tailed her again, feeling none too proud but still following his gut instinct that there was _something_ to see here. For a few days, she sold her pink flowers only to women. They would have sex and then drink tea together, chatting for far longer than the usual hour. Some of them clearly knew the flowergirl well and exchanged gossip about completely trivial things. There was never any question of illicit drug or materia exchanges, though some of the girls smoked pot. Tseng didn’t have much to do except listen and fight his growing frustration. Then after what felt like a completely random amount of time, the pink flowers were for sale for men again. Like she'd just needed a break from them for a while. 

She seemed to get a lot of men who were twice her size, and she never even flinched when some of them were clearly gang filth. Tseng wondered if that was why she sometimes switched to women only. Perhaps that was the male clientele she attracted – people who enjoyed the girly, frail, damsel-in-distress character that her physique and wardrobe suggested. One day she got a fellow that Tseng had already had trouble with over cartel business, so Tseng followed them, definitely expecting some kind of altercation this time. He stayed at the back of the container, listening rather than watching though the temptation was making his blood boil as always.

At one point there was something like a scuffle – an argument, the flowergirl’s voice ringing out with a little more desperation than Tseng was used to hearing. He started jogging around to the front of the block of containers. As he skirted around the corner, the voices got louder. Someone screamed. Tseng ran.

He was two steps away from the pink curtains that framed her container entrance when there was a familiar pull in the air around him. Raw energy was being collected – and then it burst, a cloud of whirring ice expanding from within the container and raking the curtains up into the air. Tseng’s eyes widened. He’d never seen a slummer perform such an excellent Ice spell before. The bulky man staggered out, ripping a couple of curtains as he went. He had blood on his chin, dripping in strings from his mouth. He only took a few seconds to recover, before snarling and making to go back in – but Tseng called out to him, cocking his gun right at the guy’s face.

‘This ain’t your fucking business, Turk,’ the man growled. ‘Money was exchanged. She won’t give me what I paid for.’

‘Turn around, and walk away,’ Tseng told him calmly, closing the distance between them.

The man stared him up and down. Then he spat a gobbet of blood at Tseng’s feet, and did as Tseng said. Last time they’d seen each other, Tseng had beaten him so bloody that he’d had to be taken into intensive care – and they both remembered it. Once he’d disappeared out of the junkyard and onto the main dirt road, Tseng holstered his gun and went through the curtains, letting them drag over his suit as he strode in.

The flowergirl was sitting in her cushions, curled up in a defensive position. She glanced up, saw that it was Tseng, and resumed buttoning up her dress with trembling fingers.

‘Are you alright?’ Tseng said, shoes sinking into the soft red rug. He stopped at a respectable distance from her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. (Absently he noted that there was an astonishing amount of flowers in here – they were burgeoning in the corners, not visible from the peephole.)

She looked at him once she was done buttoning up, and again there was that knowing look in her eyes that made it hard for him to look at her.

‘Looks like your day finally came,’ she said.

Tseng frowned. Once he’d scanned her arms and legs and was sure she didn’t have any wounds that needed immediate attention, he said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘You came to the rescue,’ she said. Then she actually clapped at him a few times, her expression a mockery of gratitude. ‘Thank you so much, sir. What would a poor prostitute like me have done without you? Apart from being perfectly capable of throwing a three-hundred-pound guy out by the sheer force of my magic?’

Tseng was rooted to the spot by her lip.

‘That man has killed dozens of professionally trained agents,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure you understand just how much danger you were in when you brought him here.’

The flowergirl got up and drifted over to him slowly, the hem of her dress caressing the cushions as she went.

‘My gratitude isn’t really what you want,’ she told him, close enough now that he could smell her flowery perfume and admire the constellation of faerie lights reflected in her eyes. It made her look otherworldly. He forced himself to hold her gaze, feeling his chest getting uncomfortably warm.

‘You’re right. I don’t want you to thank me,’ Tseng said. ‘I just want you to be safe.’

‘That’s not it either,’ she said, shaking her head. Then she tilted her chin up, like she meant to tell him something secret. So he leaned forwards, and her breath ghosted over the shell of his ear as she told him,

‘Come and find me when you will have figured it out.’

 

 ° ° °

He thought about the way her lips had felt so close, the warmth of them brushing against his skin. He thought about what she looked like in the pink lights, the way her body stretched, the way her mouth would hang open as she moaned. He thought about how her long hair spilled over the curves of her body, feathery soft and inviting a hand to sweep it aside. He thought about magical energy shivering around her nakedness, ice-tipped fingers trailing down his body.

A week later, he wondered if he could still be considered a model Turk when it had taken him this long to figure it out.

He met her in Wall Market, selling flowers near the weapon shop, a small pink figure standing amidst huge tank parts and disused ShinRa scrap.

His palms were sweating. That never happened. Clenching his fingers into fists, he went towards her, feeling far more awkward now that he was putting his real intention in motion.

She saw him coming up to her in his usual slick Turk suit. She wasn’t exactly wary – rather, she seemed to be expecting him to have come up with another bogus explanation as to why he needed to be around her. He stood in front of her, waiting for her cue. Irritably, she didn’t give it, only smiled at him. So he smiled back. (Damn it all to hell, a Turk shouldn’t be so easily manipulated.)

‘Good evening,’ he said.

‘Fancy seeing you here for a change,’ she railed him. Then she hitched her basket up a little higher on her hip. ‘Are you here to buy flowers or to play knight in shining armour?’

When Tseng realised that her bratty attitude was actually kind of endearing, he knew he was a lost cause.

‘I’d like a flower, please,’ he said.

Here she seemed curious. ‘Oh? Well.’ She searched his face, apparently hesitating on whether to play this game after having so clearly invited him to, the last time he'd seen her.  It was almost like she had turned shy all over again at the prospect that he might indeed book her.

Then she looked down at her basket and said, ‘They’re only one gil.’

‘I’ll take a pink one, please,’ he said.

She smiled down at her flowers. ‘They’re a little more expensive,’ she murmured.

He wondered which of them was more nervous than the other.

‘All good things cost extra,’ he told her, his voice a little lower than usual.

Her cheeks were glowing red as she reached for a single pink flower. He looked at how dainty her skin was, even in these conditions and with that shitty artificial daylight that made everyone like here look like zombies. Even with her flawless skin, the neon light drew out her faults and made her look just as tired as everybody else down here.  

She gave him the single flower, but he didn’t take it.

‘I want all of them,’ he said.

She blinked at him. ‘I – can’t do that. I only sell them by the unit.’

He took the flower, held it by the stem and brought it to his nose whilst gazing down at her.

‘That’s a shame,’ he murmured. ‘I would’ve loved to see what a full bouquet might look like in the sunlight.’

Aeris looked at him like he was the clear blue sky he was advertising.  Then she seemed to reign herself in for a moment, staring down at his shirt, going through the pros and cons in her head. He waited, unaware that he was wearing a pleased little smile.

Then she asked, ‘Hotel?’

And he said, ‘Only the very best.’

° ° °

Later on, Tseng would remember the helicopter ride as the best part of the evening, simply because of how much the flowergirl laughed and shouted into the mic and drew his attention towards things he was completely used to seeing as she stared obsessively out the windscreen. It was a bit of a cloudy evening, but she kept her eyes fixed on the clouds anyway, fascinated.

Once they’d landed, he took her to a glass skyscraper that was in fact a hotel. She was grinning like a little girl, holding onto her flower basket with both hands as he led her through the huge entrance and across the polished hard wood floor to the desk. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chandelier that hung above them, which was an immoderately massive ball made of crystals. Tseng looked at how the bright crystalline light made her face glow, and couldn’t wait for the sunset. 

Even the lift had her looking all around herself. Tseng pressed a number – they were on one of the highest floors. That meant they had a couple of minutes. She spent the first few seconds facing the window. Basket on the floor, hands on the glass, staring at Midgar’s upper plate as it shrunk further away from them.

Tseng looked at the elegant curve of her spine, the plump roundness of her bottom, the way she would always keep her legs firmly planted to the ground rather than lean on one hip. He pictured himself running a finger down her back. He wondered if he had the liberty to touch her yet.

He stepped behind her. Her shoulders tensed ever so slightly as she sensed his presence behind her. She glanced up at him in their reflection, still wearing that awed smile of hers, and when he lay his bare hand over the back of her neck, she closed her eyes and lowered her chin. He could see goosebumps spreading over her slender arms.

Well. That was probably a  _yes._

‘I never asked your name,’ he said. Then, as she hadn’t made any objection, he trailed his fingers all the way down her spine and over her backside. While he traced the outline of her underwear through the fabric, he watched how the goosebumps spread over her neck, how the tiny curly hairs at the edges of her hairline bristled a little. He leaned in, let his lips linger against her neck, just breathing. Then he allowed himself to kiss her behind the ear and she sighed.

‘Aeris,’ she told him.

 He smiled. The name was oddly familiar, but he wasn’t about to think work right now.

‘I’m Tseng.’

She turned to look at him, her face a little pink again – she seemed to blush easily.

‘Glad to finally meet you, Tseng,’ she said. He was close enough to count her freckles and see the green-gold webbing of her irises.  He could’ve gazed at her for the rest of the elevator ride, but she turned to stare down at the city again, clearly unable to focus on being professional when the entire city was sprawled at their feet like this. Seeing where they’d just come from, he could understand her reaction. Maybe this was even her first time Upworld. He stepped away, letting her gorge herself on the sights for the rest of the ride.

 When they got to their room, he opened the door for them, giving her a tiny gentlemanly bow as she walked past him. She bowed back at him, giggling. Then she strode in. Her gunky slummer shoes looked particularly garish against the fancy cream-and-gold carpeting. The main wall was entirely made of glass, so she headed that way – only to be distracted by what he’d prepared on the bed. (Well. What Rude had prepared on the bed. A Turk leader was usually owed a great many favours, and Tseng had decided to use a couple of those so that the night could be just as he wanted it.)

Ten thousand gil, a rose-gold Agent Provocateur lingerie set, a see-through nightgown that looked like it was made of golden glitter, and Louboutin heels. Rude had outdone himself. Tseng was glad he'd picked the right Turk for that particular job. She deposited her basket at the foot of the bed and bent over the gifts, one hand on her mouth, the other tracing the fabrics.

‘This isn’t for me,’ she said.

‘Well I’m certainly not wearing any of it,’ Tseng told her. She laughed, looking over at him as though sizing him up, so he pointed a finger at her. ‘Don’t even think about it. Nothing would fit. Except eventually the stockings.’

‘I suppose that could be arranged,’ Aeris said, and Tseng smirked as he headed to the small kitchen area. He took the champagne out of the fridge, and when he looked towards the bed again she was still there, holding the bra up and turning it this way and that.

‘Are you going to put those on or am I just going to have to use my imagination?’ he called.

She turned and poked her tongue out at him, then gathered it all up against her chest and scampered to the bathroom. He was smiling to himself as he took out two crystal champagne flutes.

He waited for her to come back out to pop the champagne bottle open. When he heard her turn on the shower he left the champagne bottle in its bucket of ice, poured himself a little whisky and went to the windows. The clouds were thinning, sunset colours beginning to peek through. He drank.

He was lost in scenarios of what would come next when the bathroom door opened and she strode out, trailing golden glitter. He saw her in the reflection, skirting around the bed, and even just this glimpse of her was enough to make his breath hitch in his throat.

‘I put the stockings on, but if you want them…’ she called to him in that cheeky tone of hers. He turned around slowly, taking her in from the stiletto-clad feet to the gold-dusted shoulders to that toothy, delighted smile. Then, seeing as she stopped and posed there for him, he looked at how the rose-gold straps and silks dug into her slight body, how the coppery tones complemented her pale white skin perfectly. The bra had no underwire, so the silk outlined the natural shape of her breasts – small but round, with the nipples clearly pointed under the fabric. The silk knickers dipped tantalizingly between her thighs, and he could feel himself hardening at how soft they must feel. His eyes followed the garters down to the stockings. They hugged her long thin legs and made it look like she’d dipped her toes in ink. He bit his lip, feeling his cock stir even more earnestly as he imagined running his hands down those gorgeous legs.

‘Let's keep the stockings on you,’ he rumbled, not quite trusting his voice. She strode up to him, heels knocking in the carpet. He let her take his whisky glass and sip from it, eyes strung to his and still looking bratty as ever. But then she caught sight of the deepening sunset, and he lost her again.

The natural golden light looked amazing on her skin. It set off the glitter on her accoutrement and Tseng watched her as she gazed at the sights, unable to believe that she was here for him, that he could even touch such a masterpiece.

He let his hand trail down her back again, shifting the gown over onto one side, this time venturing over her backside and gliding between the cheeks towards the warm junction. The silk was slippery and warm and she gasped as he slid a finger firmly between her thighs, feeling for her entrance through the silk. She only opened her thighs more, eyes on the sunset as he fondled her through the silk.

‘I have a feeling I’m going to have a hard time peeling you away from the windows,’ he murmured in her ear.

‘Well, you don’t have to,’ she told him with a wicked smile. ‘We’re high enough that nobody can see us, right?’

He smiled back at her.

‘I’m glad we are of one mind,’ he said. Then he slid his finger into her underwear, gliding across her slick lips. His cock was getting almost painfully hard at the feeling of her.

She only arched her back, giving a soft, satisfied purr as she gave him access, still apparently more interested in the sunset. For a moment he felt almost wounded that perhaps all the delight she’d shown at being taken up here was to see the sky rather than to spend time with him – then he remembered that, yes, she wasn’t exactly here because she was head over heels for him. Still, he didn’t want her to zone out while he enjoyed himself.

He pulled her hips back so that she was more arched, elbows against the window. Then he knelt behind her, and spread her cheeks with both hands, admiring how plump her mound looked beneath the rose-gold fabric. He leaned forwards and kissed her right between the thighs and she braced herself against the glass with a little _oh_.

He dug his tongue against her entrance through the fabric, and then dragged the tip up and down, soaking the silk and making her wriggle her hips a little. The movements she made and the tiny choked noises were delicious to him. He pulled the band of her knickers aside and buried his tongue in her delicate folds, lapping at her juices and moulding his mouth over her. She tasted amazingly good. There was almost a hint of… something like almonds. He could feel her pitting more of her weight against the windows, breathing more heavily now as he parted her lips with his tongue and circled her clit. She seemed to lock her hips in place whenever he did the right thing, and move them about when trying to find a better angle. He followed her lead like this for a few minutes while she panted, hands sliding down the window. From the sound of it at least, he’d temporarily distracted her from the sunset.

She twitched her hips away from him after about half an hour, so he stood up, placing his hand between her thighs as he leaned over her and kissed her shoulder.

‘Will you come for me, Aeris?’ he murmured.

She looked over at him, eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed.

‘I can try,’ she said. While she was still looking him in the eye, he sank two fingers into her soaking entrance. Her mouth fell open and she moaned helplessly, pressing her forehead against the glass.

‘You’re too good at this,’ she gasped as he thrust deep inside her. ‘Spoiling me for other clients.’

He saw one of her hands reaching down to massage her clit while he worked her, and it excited him far more than it wounded his pride. He’d already accepted that it didn’t always take just one night to figure out how a woman preferred to be touched. Her nails scratch his knuckles a little – she’d trapped her clit and was massaging it a little frantically. He watched her back tense, shoulder blades shifting under the straps of the lingerie. With his free hand he took a condom wrapper out from his trouser pocket, stuck it in his mouth, unbuckled and unzipped. She was moaning in earnest now, her breath making a little circle of fog beneath her on the window. He ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, eased the condom onto his rock-hard cock and started to run the ring of his hand up and down his erection as he finger-fucked her, watching her tremble and arch up for him. He tried not to think that anyone with binoculars in an environing skyscraper would be getting a hell of a show.

‘Gaia, _yes_ ,’ she moaned after a few minutes, ‘keep going just like that – ’

He thrust his fingers further inside her, circling and pressing and massaging and she came undone. She slapped her free hand against the window, legs buckling, back tensing up as the orgasm rushed through her body. He could feel her walls pressing around his fingers, pulsing rhythmically and he couldn’t contain himself any more. He stood behind her, letting her grind against his fingers through the thick of the orgasm before withdrawing and thrusting his cock into her. She cried out, both hands bracing against the window. The one she’d used to masturbate spread wetness across the glass, and Tseng smiled at the little half-moon she’d made with it. He held her by the hips and thrust again, making her scream with pleasure this time. She was still pulsing with the orgasm and he felt her walls closing around his cock, massaging him from the base to the tip, and he sighed at how fucking _good_ it felt to be inside her.

He took her against the window and it was rough and messy. She banged her elbows against the glass, he raked his nails down her back and held her hips firm enough to bruise as he fucked her hard and fast. Gold light was melting all over the city but neither of them were paying attention to it any more. He rode out the blind lust until she reached back and put a hand on his. By then he was panting a little, having spent enough of that reckless energy to be able to calm down.

He slid out of her, expecting her to want a break. But she only turned around and glared at him, then pushed him back without an ounce of respect. He staggered back, automatically holding onto his unzipped trousers to keep them from falling and tripping him up. She pushed him again until the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed. He sat down, watching her as she stood over him in all her golden glory. Her braid was messy and tangled as it fell between her breasts, her eyes dark with lust. She let the gown slide down her shoulders and pool at her feet, then straddled him, her thighs hot against his and her slick centre pressing against his erection. He groaned as she leaned over him, mouth hovering near his.

‘Where are your manners?’ she murmured. ’You don’t fuck a girl like that without kissing her first.’

Tseng grinned. For a split second, just for that, he was in love.

He tilted his chin up, catching her mouth with his teeth, biting her. She shied away with a squeal, so he held her head in his hands, fingers tangling in her soft hair as he kissed her properly. His mouth perfectly moulded hers, tongue sliding between her lips and filling her mouth. She raked her fingers through his long hair, moaning softly as his tongue curled around hers. She would pretend to bite down on it, then suck on it instead, and kiss him again with a little smirk – a brat to the very end. Tseng ran his hands along her body, feeling how the straps of lingerie dug into her skin. He flicked his thumbs against her nipples and she shuddered adorably. Smiling, he unclipped her bra and shoved his hands underneath it, cupping her breasts and making her whine with need.

Aeris reached between them, angled his cock so that she could lower herself onto it. She did it slowly, staring down at his expression all the while. He frowned as the head of his cock entered her again, the sensations completely different at this angle. When she’d taken him in completely, she buried her face against his neck, holding onto his shirt as she rolled her hips irresistibly back and forth. He closed his eyes and let her take over, seeing stars as he felt her body ripple against his.

He had to tell her to stop when he felt himself building, but she only pushed him down onto the mattress and rode him harder. He smiled and watched her until it became too much, and he pulled her down against him, holding on as though to dear life.

She bit his neck, whispered, ‘Where are you going to come?’

‘Inside you,’ he moaned.

‘You sure you don’t want to come in my mouth?’ she asked, and he smirked. He could see exactly what she was doing, and gods, was it working.

He bit her lower lip and hissed, ‘I’m sure.’

It only took a few more seconds before he thrust up into her, head tilting back against the mattress as he came hard. Hair fanning out around him, he groaned helplessly as she rode through it, driving him to overdose after he’d reached the point of overstimulation.

After he’d come down enough to open his eyes, he found her sitting next to him, staring down at him with a groggy smile on her face.

‘One-one,’ she told him. ‘For now, it’s a draw.’

He had to take a second before he realised she was talking about their respective orgasm scores. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

‘I had no idea we were having a contest,’ he dead-panned.

‘And it isn’t even a fair one,’ she said all innocently, ‘because you needed help to get your point.’

Tseng glared at her, then tackled her onto the mattress, making her cry out.

°

He was fast asleep when she got up to shower and get dressed the next morning. He was only just blinking his way to consciousness when she sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at him and brushing his loose hair out of his eyes. He looked blearily up at her. Her braid was freshly done up and falling neatly down her back, her dress all buttoned up. He took her wrist, kissed her palm as way to say hello.

‘This was probably one of the best nights I’ve ever had,’ she murmured to him. ‘And I’m not just saying that because you paid me – _ten grand,_ Gaia have mercy. I don't even know how much that is.’

He stroked her back, gazing up at her more tenderly. ‘Could be the first of many,’ he said. ‘If you’re up for it. Though we’d have to discuss price. I don’t think I could afford ten grand a night every night.’

She laughed and nodded. ‘We could talk about it, yeah,’ she said. Then she bent over him, kissed him on the mouth and murmured, ‘I’ll see you down below.’

‘Mm.’

‘Sleep tight.’

°

There was a bouquet of pink flowers on the counter when he finally got up. The stems were all bundled together in aluminium foil. Tseng smiled to himself as he got ready, casting glances at it as he went around the room to gather his things.

Once he got home, he prepared a vase for it, and placed it on his bedside table.

° ° °

 

The box had come down from the ShinRa board – they were requesting a full rehaul of an old case file. It was sitting squarely in the centre of Tseng’s desk, so he sighed, dropped the files he’d intended on checking this morning and started rummaging through the box. He took out a slim folder stamped with lab codes, specimen details, and a bright red [TOP SECRET] on top of all the rest. Tseng sat in his office chair, flipped the file open. There was a note clipped to one side of the folder that read ‘Updates Needed: photos, weekly routines, relationships, profession(s), full medical (lab visit urgent)’. With one look at the case number and the grainy black-and-white picture of the ten-year-old Cetra girl on the front, Tseng remembered that Reno was the one in charge of surveilling the video footage of this particular girl. Apparently she turned twenty today, hence the renewed interest. Reno would have to go down to the slums to drag her Upworld for her lab visit with Hojo soon. Poor girl. He’d always felt protective of the Cetra girl when she was blundering around in the HQ, clinging to the legs of the assistants.

He was halfway to Reno’s office when he noticed something.

She had a big bow in her hair, and a long braid.

Images of Aeris and her pink bow came racing back to Tseng’s mind. He stopped in his tracks. Flipped through the pages, found the specimen’s birth name.

_Aeris Gainsborough._

He stood in the corridor, staring down at the case file describing the single most wanted woman on the Planet. It couldn’t be. _Couldn’t_ be.

He couldn’t have been that stupid.

He flipped to the ‘body and birthmarks’ section and read through the text. It didn't even surprise him that he recognised each goddamned mole and each little scar that was described within. He shook his head slowly, realising just how deeply he’d fucked up.

Flipping the file shut, he turned around headed back to his office. There was no way he’d entrust Reno with this case. Not now.

The flowergirl was  _his._

 

° ° °


End file.
